(Pat Clancy)
|
Oh, see the fleet foot hosts of men who speed with faces wan
|
From farm stead and from thresher's cot along the banks of Ban.
|
They come with vengeance in their eyes, too late, too late are they,
|
For young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the Bridge of Toome today!
|
|
Up the narrow street he stepped, smiling and proud and young.
|
About the hemp rope on his neck, the golden ringlets clung.
|
There's never a tear in his blue eyes, both glad and bright are they,
|
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the Bridge of Toome today!
|
|
When he last stepped up that street his shining pike in hand
|
Behind him marched in grim array a stalwart earnest band.
|
For Antrim Town! For Antrim Town! He led them to the fray,
|
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the Bridge of Toome today!
|
|
There's never a one of all who die more bravely fell in fray
|
Than he who marches to his fate on the Bridge of Toome today.
|
True to the last, true to the last, he treads the upward way
|
And young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the Bridge of Toome today!
|
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die on the Bridge of Toome today!
|
|
-----------------
|
Young Roddy McCorley
|
| The Kingston Trio |
